


A true love's dream

by mrt_98



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, Dream Sex, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Malfoy Manor, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Potions Accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 02:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrt_98/pseuds/mrt_98
Summary: The Ministry of Magic is searching for a way to make young wizards and witches marry and start a family without forcing them. The students of Hogwarts who are in their final year and take Potions are asked to help. Strange things happen after an explosion during this project.





	A true love's dream

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so there might be some mistakes. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this story.  
> Comments are always welcome, to tell me what you think or to help improve my writing.

Thursdays are exhausting. I have the entire morning Arithmancy followed by Transfiguration after lunch and finish with Potions. I like all classes and it helps that Luna and Ginny are with me in the afternoon. What makes this day so special is that only six so called seventh year students take advanced Arithmancy: Marie Watts and Ariadne Strand both actual seventh year Ravenclaws, myself, Hermione Granger eighth-year Gryffindor and the three musketeers of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Needless to say, the last three make Thursday so tiresome since I'm stuck with them the entire day.

The previous years Slytherins always thought they were better than the rest. This year, they’re surprisingly silent. The professors are already promoting house-unity since September, but the students in the house of Salazar Slytherin don’t try all that hard. Not that the other houses try to befriend them. The war was supposed to make it all better, show that everyone is equal, but so far that’s not what’s happening. They don’t bully or bother anyone, so at least that’s one character trait that changed for the better. One character trait of the other students that changed for the worst is looking down on them this time, in stead of the other way around.

On our way to Potions Ginny, Luna and I discuss what we would be doing during class today. At lunch, professor Slughorn was approach by two Ministry workers. The news lit his face up, so he must’ve been excited.

“What makes Slughorn so happy?” Ginny asks while tying her hair up. All girls are obligated to fasten their hair during a Potions class. A true struggle for me every time.

“It must be something he looks forward to, he attracted a lot of crackazies,” Luna answers. The blond witch uses weird magical creatures for everything, but I’ve never heard of this one. It must’ve shown on our faces because she enlightens us by saying they are pulled to you by happiness and make you feel even better than you already do.

“I hope it has something to do with our subject. Didn’t Percy tell you the Ministry was working on a new potion, Ginny?” My question makes the wheels in my best friend’s head turn. Her brother barely says anything about his work or new developments in the Ministry, so when he does, I always remember.

“You mean the potion only a handful of people know about and he’s one of those lucky few?” It’s clearly meant to be sarcastic. Ron told me Percy kept on bragging about it for days after he told us. While I start to laugh, Luna becomes very surprised.

“Can he reveal that to you, if it’s so secret? I always thought Percy loves his job, he surely wouldn’t risk it over something like that.”

“Don’t worry about him, Luna. The Ministry can’t afford to fire anyone at the moment,” Ginny reassures her, barely containing her laughter. After the war, people didn’t trust the Ministry easily anymore, let alone work for it. Slowly every Department is going back to the number of employees they previously had, but it needs some time. Everything needs some time to go back to the way it was and some things probably never will.

We’re among the first to arrive in the dungeons. Professor Slughorn is always late, so his students tend to be only right on time themselves. Technically we can sit wherever we want, but everyone takes the same seat. Mine’s in the first row, next to Ginny and Luna behind us next to Ariadne from my Arithmancy class. One group after the other joins us, Slytherins last as usual. They always arrive together, four eight years and four seventh years. Their house is represented most in the dungeons.

All whispered conversations stop when professor Slughorn walks in with one of Ministry workers we saw earlier at lunch. He’s tall, with dark hair and light eyes. His robes scream he’s important while he has a no-nonsense look. The nod he sends us as welcome stiff and seems to make the dark room even colder than it already is.

“Alright, students,” Slughorn starts, “Let me introduce you to Stamford Jorkins, the spokesperson of the Ministry of Magic. We have a special lesson prepared for you today in hopes you, students of Hogwarts, can help the Ministry in a very important case.”

“What could that be?” Ginny whispers and she’s not the only one.

“We’ll just have to listen to figure it out.” Why does everyone always start to talk after an announcement? Why can’t they just stay silent and wait to hear more? That’s so much more efficient than the professors having to ask for silence again and we’d now the answers to all the questions sooner.

After a gesture of Slughorn, Jorkins scrapes his throat immediately followed by a silence where you can hear a pin drop. “Good afternoon, students. As Horace already told you, I’m Stamford Jorkins, spokesperson of the British Ministry of Magic.” His voice is surprisingly soft and calming.

“As you all may be aware, after the war the magical world has suffered and we’re paying the price by a decrease in population. We know we can’t force anyone to have children or to get married, but if we could help young wizards and witches find someone who could be their perfect partner for live, maybe more couples will get married and eventually help the population grow again. That’s why we’re making a potion to find your true love.”

This statement is met by utter surprise. A potion to find your true love. Some girls behind me are already sighing. Well, I guess that could prevent us from heartbreak, right? Although he said they couldn’t force us, so it wouldn’t be binding.

No, this is absurd. It’s all about falling in love, getting to know each other, discover during the ride if that person has what you’re looking for. It’s not right. Looking at the faces of the others, I see that the boys share my confusion and even disgust, while most of the girls are already dreaming of their prince charming without doubt.

“Like I said previously, we can not force anyone to act on the result. Your live is still yours and will always be yours. The Ministry simply hopes that this could speed up the process. If we find the right combination for this potion every wizard and witch who is not married will get an invitation to take the potion. What happens afterwards is out of our control.”

Ginny turns towards me and mutters: “If that potion wouldn’t show me Harry, I’ll kill the one who’s idea this was.”

I laugh a little: “You’d get an invitation, Ginny. You don’t have to go. Besides, who says they can make this potion. It all sounds too good to be true to me.”

“This is what we have so far,” Jorkins continues, “this version of the potion gives you a giddy or miserable feeling towards a person close to you. The problem here is that you get giddy among multiple people and you have to be near them. We’re trying to find something that gives you an image of one person who’s right for you. So, our question for you is to try and find something yourself. You have every ingredient available here. Any questions can be asked to your professor or contact our staff. These are the ingredients we used for this version.” He waves his wand over the board and a list of fourteen components appears. “Don’t hold on to this, only use it as inspiration.”

Jorkins nods again, showing he’s done talking. Immediately Slughorn claps his hands together and wears his signature smile that tells us he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’ll enjoy it anyway. While everyone starts talking enthusiastically again, even the Slytherin boys seem to find this a nice change from the normal classes. It is a challenge, one where we can prove how good we truly are in making potions. This can even assure me a job in the Ministry. Their potions Department might not be what I have in mind, but everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?

“This is a great challenge,” I tell my neighbour, “If we succeed in this, we’ll definitely get a job in the Ministry.” She clearly doesn’t chare my enthusiasm.

“You know I have no intention whatsoever, to work in that place. The Quidditch pitch is were you’ll find me. But I agree on the challenge part. Forget a job, we’ll be famous if we can pull this off.” Ginny’s whole face lights up with the idea.

“We’re already famous, Gin,” I shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be remembered as someone who fought on the right side of the war or as The Chosen Ones girlfriend. I want to be remembered because I did something incredible. At this moment, I don’t care if that’s finding a ‘true love’s potion’ or the most incredible score at the World Cup Quidditch ever.” The youngest Weasley crosses her arms over her chest and sets a determined look on her face to give power to her statement.

Finally, professor Slughorn continues: “You heard what is expected of you. Your grades will not depend on it, though. Every class until April will be dedicated towards this project, after that we’ll start working on your N.E.W.T.’s. Choose a partner and start your research, I’d say.”

He gives us until April?! It’s only the second week after Christmas break. Why won’t this influence our grades? I’m sure some will do absolutely nothing all those weeks, just pretending to work. We’ll spend less time preparing for our N.EW.T.’s, which is the only reason I came back to Hogwarts, to do the job of some Ministry employees.

“What did he say that changed your mind, Hermione?” I faintly hear Ginny asking. The disappointment and slight anger must be visible on my face. This is so unfair.

“We need to prepare for our final exams and instead we’ll have to do someone else’s work.” Even though it’s whispered, my rage is noticeable.

“Relax, Hermione. See this as an opportunity to truly discover how good you are in Potions. I’m sure the exam will be adjusted to the time we spend preparing for it. This is going to be fun, I promise.” Ginny basically rolls her eyes while talking, but she isn’t wrong. Slughorn will be smart enough to only ask what we’ve learned. And if he doesn’t, I’ll file a complaint with Headmistress McGonagall.

“Besides,” Ginny draws my attention back to her, “Working with me is always fun.” The eyebrows do the trick. I’m now laughing so hard, every person in the room is looking at me like I’m crazy.

“How can I possible say no to that.” Not sure if she heard every word through my laughter, but she knows what I mean.

Everyone pairs up. Mostly neighbours who start working together. Luna and Ariadne, Malfoy and Zabini, Nott and Parkinson, a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs team up. So far house-unity. No one chose a partner from another house.

The first thing we do, is make a plan. Resurge the effects of the ingredients the Ministry used so far and search for others that cause an effect on love. Resurge love and lust potions. And only try things out when you’re absolutely sure it won’t be a dramatic failure. 

 

We started on this love potion assignment in January, it’s now the first class of March. Two months all last year potions students have been trying to find the perfect mix for, what we’re calling, the true love’s potion. Some duos just tried to put random ingredients together, but miraculously nothing severe happened yet. A pair from Hufflepuff ended in the hospital wing on week three, because their cauldron exploded, but they were released that evening already. Professor Slughorn and the employees of the Ministry who work on it are a great help by answering our questions and going in discussion with us when we want. The Head of their team visits once every month to see the progress we’ve made and chare their own new findings. It is a wonderful experience to be let so loose while experimenting.

Most of us are making potions now, documenting every step so we can improve it afterwards. At the end of every class we take a sample to keep track of the progress. Delicious and awful smells fill the dungeon and the mix makes me almost throw up. The potion of Ginny and I smells like lavender and roses, a nice odour so we must be on the right way.

Halfway through the hour, a strange noise starts to come from the left. From the look on the faces of Malfoy and Zabini, I’d say it’s theirs. They look alarmed, so it was most likely not supposed to happen. Great, another pair on their way to Madam Pomfrey and if we’re not careful, students who are to close maybe as well.

“Ginny,” I start to warn her, “Move to this side of the table. Malfoy’s cauldron’s about to explode.” She looks behind her and sees the object trilling, no need to tell her to move twice.

“This looks bad,” she whispers when standing next to me. The boys are stepping away in stead of trying to fix it. Not only alarmed, but now scared too they start arguing.

“I told you not to add that last thing yet, you moron,” Zabini screams at his friend, finger pointing at his chest.

“We both agreed it needed to be added, how is it my fault you kept stirring in stead of stopping for two seconds, so I had time to put it in.” This is the first time, I see any emotion on Malfoy in a long time. He’s struggling to stay collected, nonetheless the panic flows across his face when lilac smoke rises.

Everyone’s attention is aimed at the cauldron of the two Slytherins. When Ginny starts to wander towards it, the smell hits me. It’s lovely, sweet and floral. More students take steps towards it, a few seconds later every single one of us is standing around it, breathing it in. Even Slughorn seems effected by it.

A giant explosion, as in the cauldron jumps from the table and the ground shakes, wakes us all up from the trance. Too late, since we’re all hit by the potion somewhere.

“Congratulations.” Luna is the first one to speak. “You might have found something, if we’re all so attracted to it. The nargles are coming this way too.” She doesn’t seem to mind.

“If you poisoned me, I swear to Merlin I’m going to kill you both,” I threaten them. Luna may find the good in this, but I don’t. We got hit by a strange potion, they admit to each other something went wrong. So, if bad things happen, they’re definitely to blame. A few others agree with me by insulting them too. Ginny even sends her bat-bogey hex at them. Seeing Malfoy and Zabini running around a classroom followed by bats makes this situation slightly more bearable.

“Miss Weasley, please lift your hex. I’ll need a sample and their instructions,” professor Slughorn gently reminds her. When the bats are gone, the boys give Slughorn everything he askes for. The rest of us put out their fires and collect a sample as well.

“Everyone to the hospital wing right away. We’ll take a test to see if this is contagious and if some of us are already feeling something.” So that’s what we do. The whole group moves towards the infirmary talking non stop about what this could mean. Professor Slughorn closes the group, with the two who caused this problem and Nott and Parkinson.

“It will be alright, Draco,” Parkinson tries to reassure him. The hands on his shoulder and chest are not appreciated, though.

“Hands off, Pansy. We might make things worse.”

“I thought it was pretty cool,” Nott joins them, “The first time in weeks something happened, potions without accidents was getting boring.”

“If this is bad, I can forget a job at the Ministry, all because Malfoy couldn’t wait.” Zabini is furious, walking with a considerable gap between him and his partner. If looks could kill.

They keep arguing and Pansy calming them down, you don’t have to look to know it’s not working. Before me, Ariadne is scratching her arms and Ginny her neck.

“Are you feeling alright, Gin?” I ask her.

“It might be my imagination, but my neck is itching. Hopefully Madam Pomfrey can make it stop, I really don’t fancy going through this a minute longer than necessary.”

When we arrive, the mediwitch scares. Not so strange if you know that twenty students and one professor enter the hall at the same time. She quickly ushers everyone to a bed while Slughorn explains the situation to her.

“One of their potions exploded and we all got hit by it. Can you discover if there are any ... abnormalities?”

“I told the Ministry and McGonagall this was a bad idea,” she sighs. “You're lucky not more accidents happened.”

“If this itching doesn't stop soon, I'll make you both go through hell,” Ginny suddenly shouts at Malfoy and Zabini while waving her hands all over her body, not knowing where to scratch first. At least the boys have the decency to look away. Looking at my friend, I'm glad I'm not feeling the same.

“You already hexed them, Weasley,” Parkinson interferes. “That's more than enough. These things happen during experiments, accept it.” Her face turns bitchy again, while talking. Just like the other Slytherins, she's been quiet the whole year, but Merlin help it when her precious boys get threatened.

“Shut up, Pansy,” is Malfoys response. Apparently, he doesn't agree with his friend.

“Did that just really come out of your mouth, Malfoy?” I don't wait for an answer to continue: “Since when do you know when to keep your mouth shut?”

His face contracts, about ready to let all his thoughts on us and the situation out. Well, everyone could care less what he thinks.

“That's enough,” Madam Pomfrey silences us. “Everyone stay calm and quiet so I can help. Miss Strand, Miss Weasley, this should help you get rid of the uncomfortableness.”

Contradicting Pomfrey equals digging your own grave. So, we do what she says and wait in silence. No one feels weird or different, so the effects need time or nothing happened. After a few spells and questions, we're all free to go. It doesn't look contagious and no one feels unwell. We are instructed to wright down how we feel for the following four days and show both adults on Monday.

During dinner this evening, you can see exactly who's in our potions class. That no one else seems to notice something occurred is a miracle. These students are sitting together with their heads close, discussing the events in detail, because no other student can now what we're working on, we can't tell them this either. Ginny still roams with her hands over her body, looking for a place where it starts itching again.

“Do you think something will happen, Hermione?” she asks while rubbing her upper arm. That's the problem and the one question that's been bothering me since the smoke rose. There is no use being mad about it. I'd love to strangle both of them for making us go through this, but much to my dislike the Slytherins were right: accidents happen during the making of potions.

“We'll just have to wait and see. And if we're honest, Malfoy and Zabini are pretty good in Potions. I doubt they'd have poisoned us.”

With eyes focused a little above my head to the left, lower lip half sucked in her mouth, elbow on the table and hand with knife waving around, she says: “That's rich coming from you. Weren't you the one who promised to kill them?” The look she gives me, shows she knows the answer to her question.

“I said that in the heat of the moment, Ginny.” I try to sound as confident as possible and hold my head high. “When it is bad, however, I do intent to keep that promise.”

“So, do you believe it'll be bad or not?”

“I don't think it will. Like I said, they're good at Potions and if we look at the facts, it looks even promising. We were all effected by it, even Slughorn was purposely breathing it in. A lot of love potions are pink or red, lilac is pretty close to these colours. And lastly, it smelled wonderful,” I sigh.

“It did smell great, didn’t it? Merlin, I’d love to have that as my parfum. Maybe if they suck at love potions, they can start a career in parfum,” laughs my best friend and so do I.

“Are you sure your boyfriend would like a sweet smell on you?” I wink.

“Harry wouldn’t dare say otherwise. And before you ask, I don’t give a shit about what my brothers might think. It’s not because I usually don’t, I can’t make an exception every once in a while.” Ginny’s not a girly girl with lots of make-up and skirts, neither am I, so when she does, her whole family’s surprised. Ron almost dragged her back upstairs to change once this summer when she was going out with Harry. He doesn’t care about any of it, but in that moment he was speechless.

“Let’s just eat now, I want to finish our transfiguration assignment tonight,” I say right before eating some pasta.

“You’re right, I need to work on our Quidditch training of tomorrow. I didn’t think being captain of the team would be so much work.”

“You’re doing great, we already won every game and the team loves you. You were born for this.”

“Thank you, Hermione. That means a lot coming from you, the number one anti-Quidditch fan.” She’s blushing. I can’t remember seeing Ginevra Weasley blush when it was not about something her boyfriend said or did.

We both really start eating now. The food is delicious as always. The Great Hall is filled with conversations, laughing and the scraping of cutlery on plates. Thoughts of the potion go to the back of my mind, instead talking small talk with my friends and replaying todays Transfiguration class. We’re practicing changing ourselves in furniture, not an easy task, but important for the N.E.W.T.’s, I already managed to turn my legs into a dresser. A very weird sight, if you know my body from the waist up, was still me on top of said dresser.

This evening, the common room seems to be more filled than on a normal Thursday night. Most of the Gryffindors are working on essays or just reading. Apart from our Quidditch team, their discussing about the game of next Saturday, Hufflepuff versus Slytherin. It’s still calm to be so full, though. When I’m done with my essay - it’s not done yet, but I can’t do more than this without more information from the library or professor McGonagall - I go upstairs to the dormitories to read in peace.

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on our door and a red streak barges in. My mattress moves uncontrollable when it jumps on my bed, making me shriek. The red streak falls on her back on my feet, gripping her stomach from laughter.

“Ginny. Don’t. Do. That,” I say out of breath. She clutches her stomach, I clutch my heart. I knew it was her, but why does she have to make me freak out and disturb my reading?

“I’m sorry, Hermione. You just always scream when someone pulls you out of the world of whatever book you’re reading.” Calm enough to sit straight, she moves from my feet next to me. Her ginger hair in waves down, some shorts and a loos T-shirt to sleep in.

“I just wanted to wish you a good night,” she says friendly after which we hug.

“Good night, Ginny. Sweet dreams,” I whisper in her ear.

“If we still feel alright in the morning, I’m not so worried about the disastrous twins’ potion anymore.”

“Good name. We should keep that one.” Finally letting go of each other, we crawl under the sheets in our own bed, whish each other a good night again and extinguish the candles. Two more girls have to come in, but they always stay up late.

Right before drifting off to sleep, I think of Ginny’s words: If we still feel alright in the morning, I’m not so worried about the disastrous twins’ potion anymore. Let’s hope she’s right.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing I see when stepping out the Floo, is the green wall opposite me with dancing, silver flowers stitched on it. In the middle stand two sofas and a table, there are candles all around the room and a magnificent chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The arriving room is plain compared to the other rooms here, still the colours and details scream wealth.

While I dust of my clothes, a small plop is heard. In front of me appears one of the house-elves dressed in a black dress with the family crest on its shoulder. She bows slightly and smiles when she sees who's arrived.

“Good evening, Lula. Where can I find them today?” I don't have to say their names, she knows who I'm talking about.

“Good evening, mistress. They're in the sitting room of the west wing,” she answers with her high-pitched voice. After I thanked her, I start walking. It's a habit now to use the arriving room in the west wing, it's closest to were they usually are.

My heels and pencil skirt prevent me from walking faster and my cloak trails behind me. I never close my wizarding cloak to go to work so my clothes are visible. If it wasn't required, I wouldn't wear that garment at all. Working at the Ministry means following the traditions, though, so if this is what I have to do, to keep my dream job, I won't complain about it.

The road to the sitting room isn't long. I pass several paintings of landscapes and ancestors, who don't insult me anymore for stepping foot in their house, and expensive looking objects of which I still don't know what they do. The walls are painted in a soft cream colour, lighter than the black it used to be. It's welcoming. It's home. It took me a few months, to be honest, but the Manor is my home now.

When I arrive at my destination, I knock to warn them. A gentle voice tells me to come in, followed by babbling. Opening the door goes smoothly and the sight that greats me is one that makes my heart melt. My seven months old son is crawling towards a toy wand with a big smile on his face. Looking absolutely adorable in his light blue shirt with a Snitch, my husband’s idea, and black trousers, looking way too expensive for a baby. He's growing up so fast.

“Hey, sweetheart.” My voice automatically changes to one a few pitches higher. One you typically use around babies. His face moves towards me. Seeing his mother makes him fall back on his buttocks and his little arms go up, signalling for me to pick him up. Without hesitation I walk to him and put him on my hip, covering his face with little kisses. I'm rewarded with a laugh.

“Have you been good to your grandparents today?” I ask looking at my son, but move to the grand sofa in the room where I find my mother-in-law looking pleased.

“He's been an angel, like always,” Narcissa Malfoy answers. And like always, she sits in a perfect posture with a smile like she witnessed a miracle. Her blond hair straight down and jewellery everywhere you can put it.

I move to sit beside her, still carrying my son and greet her with a kiss on the cheek. That's another thing I had to get used to, apparently Narcissa greets her family with a kiss every time they come home. Luckily her husband doesn't do the same or I would've run away after a few days.

“You can tell me when he misbehaves. I know he's not always an angel,” I say while tickling my baby. “Definitely has that from his father.”

The older witch laughs: “I could handle his father and believe me, he caused a lot more trouble at this age.” She strokes her grandsons head, adoration displayed on her face. Scorpius starts to fuss, so I put him back on the carpet. It took some convincing, but I eventually agreed to honour the Black tradition by naming our son to a star or constellation.

“I should thank you more for looking after him, while we're working. I know it's unusual for a Malfoy woman to work,” I say sincere.

Narcissa just shakes her head: “That's what we do for family, dear. You have every right to want to work, it would be disturbing if you wouldn't. The whole Wizarding World would believe we’d have you under some kind of spell. Besides, I consider every minute with my grandson as a gift. Merlin knows, it could've turned out a lot differently.”

When the Malfoys first heard who their only son was dating, it caused some tension among them. Draco and Lucius had such a fight about it, he stayed with Blaise for a whole week without letting his parents know anything. It broke his mother’s heart.

“We would have never completely band you from his life, I wouldn't have allowed that, no matter what Draco might say.”

Before we can do more than give a reassuring and thanking smile, Lula pops in. Scorpius immediately moves towards the elf, he loves her.

“Dinner is ready, mistresses. Master Lucius is already informed.” Lula accepts my son’s toy, a red dragon, and makes it fly above his head with a snap of her fingers, making him giggle.

“Thank you, Lula,” I say while my mother-in-law picks up Scorp. “Is my husband home already?”

“Young Master has not yet returned from work, young mistress Malfoy.”

Lula and the other four remaining elves in Malfoy Manor are free and get paid, yet they refuse to address me as anything other than ‘mistress’ or ‘young mistress Malfoy' when Narcissa is in the same room. They are happy now, but at first, they didn't know how to be a free elf.

Upon realising I'm still wearing my cloak, I send it to a chair in my walk-in closet to put away later. The three of us make our way to the dinning room, still in this wing. The west wing is for my parents-in-law. When Draco and I got married, we moved to the east wing. It's a complete replica except from the library that's a gym in our wing. Still we have dinner together here every evening. The umpteenth tradition to get used to.

When we pass the painting of Lucius’ aunt, the only one who accepted me into the family right away, Scorpius waves at her and she waves back. Her platinum blond hair falls in waves down to her shoulders. Elizabeth isn’t afraid to show her emotions, from what I’m told, she didn’t behave like the perfect pureblood wife.

Her painting hangs two doors down from the private dining room. When Lucius hears the babbling from his grandson and the answer of his aunt, he shows up in the hallway. Narcissa gives my son back to me and greets her husband in the doorway. They chare a quick kiss, after which she steps inside. I get an air kiss on the cheek and Scorpius one on the crown of his head, patting Lucius’ cheek in return.

Once we’re all settled - Lucius at the head of the table, his wife on his right and me with my son next to me on his left - the elves pop in with our dinner. Normally this is Draco’s seat, but since he’s not back yet, I take it to create some symmetry. The simple tomato soup smells delicious and makes my mouth water.

“I don’t think we should wait for Draco. He sends a note, saying he would be later,” Lucius informs us. His long white hair is in a ponytail at the base of his neck and he’s wearing black formal robes, like usual. Times may have changed, but Lucius Malfoy did not follow when it comes to displaying your wealth and influents. His beliefs in blood status adjusted, solemnly to not lose the only heir he has and out of love for his wife.

“Well, in that case, bon appetit,” the lady of the house wishes us.

The food made by the elves is always supreme. While enjoying the soup, I make sure Scorpius is busy playing in his highchair. As the next course we get turkey with vegetables and homemade chips, while my son gets vegetable porridge. The look on his face tells me, he likes it.

Not much is said during dinner, it never is. We talk about each other’s day, the news or upcoming events. Halfway through our main course, the door opens revealing my husband in his composed attitude. Dark, formal wizarding robes, short, slightly ruffled blond hair and eyes that resemble ice but are warm and welcoming when looking at the people he loves.

“I’m sorry for being late. The meeting took longer than anticipated.” Draco walks to his mother who sits closest to the door and kisses her. Next his father gets a hand and another apology. Our son who’s been reaching for his father since he walked in receives a loving kiss and hug. The sight always warms me. I’m last, it won’t be some grand gesture that says he missed me or loves me. We stay polite and careful around his parents, or other people in general.

“Hello, Hermione,” is all he says while kissing my cheek, bringing his hand to my shoulder. His breath tickles my face and ear, sending shivers down my spine. If only he knows how much he affects me with all the small things he does.

“Welcome home, Draco.” My hand rests in his neck, dumb lightly brushing over his jaw. Sweet Merlin, his jaw. With his face so close, it’s hard to miss how sharp his facial features are. He always was handsome, reminding me of ancient statues, but now that he’s older, his entire body turned into that of a true God. There’s a reason we have a gym in our wing, of course. Watching while he doesn’t know, is one of my guilty pleasures.

Now that the last family member is arrived and is seated next to Narcissa, one of the elves comes back with the soup. Lucius also sees this as the perfect moment to say something. His position changes a little, more upwards and cutlery on the table and hands folded on his lap, a look of concern in his eyes. This is never a good sign.

“How did the meeting with Mr. Greengrass go, Draco? He’s normally not one to take up much of your time.”

“He wanted to discuss a second matter. This was not planned, but his idea sounded interesting, so I made more time for him.” Both their tones are business-like, as if they are in a meeting themselves. The oldest Malfoy has trouble not interfering in his old company’s business. He stepped down last year, leaving his son in charge. The only problem seems to be that he keeps asking Draco to keep him updated and checks the papers. Knowing Narcissa will feel the same, I see her getting ready to change the subject.

“If it’s alright with you,” she starts, “maybe you can discuss this further in private after dinner. You know how your wives feel about talking about details of the company while we’re eating.”

Both men agree to continue their conversation once Scorpius is put in bed after a stern look from my mother-in-law. “Very well. Now that everyone’s present, we might want to plan the gala for our wedding anniversary a little.”

“Not now, Narcissa,” sighs her husband. “It’s still months away, we have time enough for that.”

“Months away?” she sounds perplexed. “Lucius, when exactly did we get married, according to you?” I send Draco a look of wide-eyes to see him chuckling while his main course is served. Even Scorpius stopped to look at his grandfather seemingly realizing he’s in trouble. Narcissa Malfoy loves planning all sorts of parties and starts months in advance. But their anniversary isn’t months away, anymore.

“We’ll be married for thirty years on November 5th. It’s a day I’ll never forget, darling.” Voice and face filled with love, he gives his wife the correct answer. It’s slightly uncomfortable to see him like that while eating.

“Correct. What day is it today?” Not giving in, the witch stays determined to make him realise himself that’s only a little more than one month away.

“Today is the 22nd of September.” Clearly annoyed he rolls his eyes away from her, causing Narcissa to become outraged. Putting her mask back on, she starts eating again, not saying a single word anymore. I help my son with his food and in the meantime try to get their son so far as to say something. Unfortunately, he can be rather oblivious when he wants to.

“What Narcissa is trying to say, Lucius,” I start. If he doesn’t care about spending the rest of dinner in a tense atmosphere, I’ll fix this myself. “It’s almost the end of September and your anniversary is the beginning of November.” By emphasizing the months, I hope he gets it, but his look of I’m-not-stupid-Hermione tells me he doesn’t.

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake, father. It’s only a little more than a month away. Between September and November is only one month and that’s October. If you want people to actually attend, you’ll have to send out invitations rather today than tomorrow.”

Now he can say something? I tell him exactly what I think by rolling my eyes at him. His face, though, stays amused upon seeing his sons smile and his fathers disbelieve when the truth finally sinks in. Scorpius starts babbling again, trying to tell his father what he thinks of the situation. Or not, we never know what that boy’s saying.

“Yes, son, your father made everything clear. So, remember to be straightforward towards your grandfather and don’t beat around the bush like the women in this house.” He leans closer over the table, completely ignoring the reaction of the women in this house. He might be right, but that doesn’t mean he has to rub it in our faces.

Lucius comes back to reality saying he’s very sorry and simply didn’t realize it was so close already. We agree on a date which is the most important right now. The guestlist will be made by Narcissa and Lucius themselves, we don’t really have a say in it, since it’s their gala.

Soon dinner is over and we go our separate ways, whishing each other a good evening. Draco carries our son to his playroom in our own wing and I follow beside them. Evenings are the only moment when we can be truly alone, enjoying our small family. In about an hour Scorpius will go to bed and I’ll finally be able to hold my husband in my arms.

We set ourselves on the ground, each on a side next to our son. My husband quickly lies down on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. In a moment like this, Draco opens completely. He doesn’t put on a mask or hides his feelings. He turns into a wonderful father who doesn’t care about anything but playing with his son and sending me promising looks. It makes me fall in love with him more every day. And these promising looks are being send right back.

After a while Draco addresses me: “I can’t believe my parents are married thirty years already. We have to buy them something, any ideas?”

“First of all, you could’ve helped your mother out earlier.” My stern tone only brings his smirk forward.

“I like seeing you both suffer. You better remember what I told Scorp today as well.”

“Secondly, it’s not so weird. Don’t forget you’re twenty-six, already, mister. We had our fifth wedding anniversary in July.”

“I know, but still. I don’t feel twenty-six yet.”

“Oh, do enlighten me. How is twenty-six supposed to feel?”

“Why don’t you tell me, love. You’ve been there.” For a second, I don’t pay attention to the baby on the floor anymore, instead give my husband a smack against his head. He said it so sweet, and at the same time laughing with me because I turned twenty-seven a few days ago. He secretly loves dating an older woman, although he’ll never admit that to his friends.

“But seriously, Hermione. I have no idea what to get them.” He rolls on his back, picking Scorpius up to put him on his stomach. He immediately closes his eyes and yawns. I believe it’s time to put someone to bed.

“We’ll find something. Let’s put our son to bed first before he falls asleep and wakes up again when being moved.” I stand up and pick the blond baby up, resting his head against my shoulder. Draco moves behind us and places his hand on my waist, waking up the butterflies in my stomach. Every touch makes me feel alive again. The first thing I got addicted to. Although, his kisses are worth a few Galleons as well.

Like he can read my mind, he gives me one underneath my right ear. A very sensitive spot, causing my eyes to close every single time. I feel his smirk against my skin, giving me goose bumps. Forgetting about the precious cargo in my arms for a moment, I turn around and crash my lips against his. Calming down only once I feel his soft lips move with mine. Our first kiss since our departure this morning and it feels so perfect. Sending electricity through my body even after we separated.

“I’m not done with you yet, just so you know,” I whisper against his lips.

His smirk appears again: “I hope not, love.” He kisses me slowly, pulling back so our lips are still slightly touching. “But weren’t we on our way to put our son to bed?”

After a roll of my eyes, I begin walking to his room, not waiting for Draco to join me. Once there, I change Scorpius’ nappy and put his pyjamas on, dark blue with a brown dragon making it look like it’s flying in a storm. He’s so tired already, that he doesn’t move as much as he usually does.

When I turn around, Draco’s already sitting in the rocking chair next to the crib, book and bottle in hand. We take turns reading to him before bedtime. Today is his turn, so I give him an almost sleeping Scorpius and move to stand in the doorway. When the bottle’s empty, Draco starts reading. His voice is soft and gentile. Put that together with the rocking and it’s no miracle our son falls asleep before his father ended the second page. Anyone who ever doubted if Scorpius really is Draco’s son wouldn’t need more prove than this. Seeing them together, makes you realize how much they look alike. The same platinum blond hair, grey eyes and sharp jaw. The only prove he’s my son is that I carried him for nine months.

The moment Draco closes the door behind us, leaving it ajar, I pull him to me and wrap my arms around his neck. He answers by pinning me to the wall, gripping my waist in a way I won’t be able to move an inch. I love getting out the beast in him. Pulling him down for a searing kiss, I can feel my whole body tingle. The force with which he kisses me back, leaves me aroused. So much, I just want to drag him to our bedroom and rip his clothes of, since it’s inappropriate to do anything outside your child’s bedroom.

“You don’t waste any time, do you, witch?” he asks out of breath. I smile, bringing his mouth down and my leg up, which is hard in this skirt.

“Hermione, stop.” He rests his forehead against mine before continuing: “In case you forgot, I still have to meet my father and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Well, that’s a very affective way to kill the mood. I let go of him, aiming a displeased look at the man who gets me worked up with a single kiss or holding my child in his arms.

“You’re just so sexy, when you’re in full father mode,” I whine, “I zoned out three times at work today, because you looked so hot this morning, waking me up with Scorpius in your arms.”

And he laughs, really laughs. Complete with sound, smile, half-closed eyes and dimples. His left hand moves to hold my cheek, right still at my waist with a look so intense, it makes me weak in the knees. The eyes that resemble ice, are now molten iron, letting me now he’s just as aroused as I am. When I dare to look down, I see the start of his hard-on.

“I’ll show you what real sexiness looks like, when I’m back,” he uses his deep, seductive tone. My breath falters and I move my hand back to the nape of his neck. Countering my move, his lips leave a pattern from the corner of my mouth to my ear. All I can do now, is close my eyes and focus on the feelings he awakes in me. Why doesn’t he just kiss me hard?

“In the meantime, you can dream of me in father mode, so you’ll see the difference with husband mode.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me out of breath and staring. By the time I fully realise he left and turn around, he’s already out of sight. I lean my head against the wall, trying to calm down. At least he promised we’d continue later, right?

Sometimes I feel it’s too easy to get him were I want. I initiate as much as he does, and when I do, he catches up in no time. Our sex live is the one thing that always stayed the same, constant and extremely satisfying. Merlin, I can’t wait to know what he wants to do to me tonight.

Before I move to the sitting room, I check on Scorpius and find him still fast asleep. Having him was so far the second best decision of my life. The best thing was, accepting I was hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy. It turned my world upside down in good and bad ways. Looking back, I wouldn’t want to change a thing. What I would change, is telling my father-in-law to leave my husband alone for tonight. Then again, I would never actually dare to do that, even though I'm a Gryffindor.

Slowly, I make my way to our private sitting room. It still amazes me how every room in this Manor is double: one private and one public. Our private sitting room is turned into a small library. There’s a fireplace in the left wall, the opposite filled with bookshelves. Two loveseats in the middle of the room in a sort of V and a small table with a fruit bowl. The walls are grey with small, dark red flames. In short, it’s warm and cosy, one of my favourite rooms.

With my feet underneath me and a book in hand, I start reading and wait for Draco to come back from his meeting. The story is about a witch and wizard who meet on holiday and fall head over heels in love. Cliché, but great. Romance is always welcome in life, real or fictional. For now, it helps me to stay filled with love.

An hour later, Draco’s still not back. How long can it take to inform Lucius of the content of one meeting? Doesn’t he want to come back as soon as possible? Kiss me until we’re both out of breath, let his hands cover every inch of my body, feast on my breasts, feel my mouth around his rock-hard cock and finally arrive home in my wet pussy. Only ever wet for him. If I continue thinking like this, my knickers will be ruined before we even started.

Book long forgotten next to me, I stare at the fire. The red and orange flames remind me of the Gryffindor common room. How much has changed since then. In those days I absolutely loathed the boy who is now my husband. What can I say? There’s a thin line between love and hatred.

Suddenly, the door opens with a loud bang. Someone who doesn’t know Draco well, might believe he’s furious. Instead he’s determined. Eyes focusing on me, fast pace and smirk in place. He looks ready to have an endless night.

“Finally, you’ve kept me waiting long enough.” I don’t move, solely cross my arms in front of my chest, making sure I push my breasts up in the process. By having the top buttons of my white dress shirt unbuttoned, my cleavage is in full view now.

He squats down in front of me with a too sweet face and eyes full of mischief. One that can only mean I’m in trouble. As long as it’s the right kind of trouble, I don’t mind at all. With a hand in my neck, he asks: “Ready for husband mode, Mrs. Malfoy?”

My bottom lip gets caught by my teeth, knowing very well it drives him crazy. The moment I start to nod, he grabs my waist and throws me over his shoulder, making me scream in surprise. I did not see that coming. Though the view on his tight ass is magnificent, I kick and punch him to put me down. His laugh and smack on my bottom tell me he enjoys this way too much.

On our way to the bedroom, he spanks me a few more times. I’m not one for kinky, but those make me whimper every time. In return he gets a few smacks back, causing him to walk even faster. Carefully closing the door when we finally arrive and a strange move later, I’m in his arms in bridal style. His face so close to mine, I can look at his soul through the grey of his eyes.

Not being able to resist any longer, I kiss him. We both sigh of contentment. When his tongue traces my bottom lip, I happily open my mouth for him. The kiss is slow and steady. Our tongues perform a practised dance, holding on as long as possible. When we part after what feels like hours, my whole body feels warm. The urge to drag him to bed is gone and replaced by the feeling of safety and genuine happiness.

Draco puts me down gently, holding on to my legs until they’re on the ground. With one hand on the small of my back and one in my hair, he kisses me again briefly. My hands rest on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat. It’s reassuring to feel it’s not racing. Yet.

We start moving towards our king size four poster bed. When my legs hit the footboard, my husband lifts me to lay me down on our black and white sheets. I crawl backwards until my head hits the pillows, my eyes never leaving his, and he follows. My hand automatically reaches for his face to pull him nearer. This kiss signalises the beginning of our night. No words are needed from now on.

With some difficulty the sheets are removed from underneath us, followed by Draco’s black, fancy shoes. Mine were left in the sitting room in front of the loveseat. One by one our clothes are thrown on the ground. One piece of me, taken off by him, followed by lips on the now exposed skin. Every part he touches starts to tingle and my eyes fall shut. He makes a pad from my left shoulder to the right, up along my neck to end on my lips. After all these years we know that a kiss means the next move can be made.

His shirt follows mine and my hands and mouth take its place. My tanned hands are in sharp contrast with his pale skin. My lips start on his shoulder and move down. His chest is my next victim. The pectoral muscles just hard enough to feel strong under my hands and worthy to linger on with my lips. I stop on his nipple for a few seconds and am rewarded with a soft groan. All parts of his six-pack deserve attention, making my love hold his breath. On my way back up on the other side, I feel his arms almost giving in. When I reach the place of his heart, I feel it beating strong and hard against my lips. By the time I reach his soft lips again, he has dropped to his elbows.

The pressure that’s present with this kiss, makes us both involuntarily move our hips. Draco’s member is still trapped in his trousers, but ready to go and I can feel my juices slowly running out. When his firm hand grabs my hips, he seems to realise my skirt is still on. Not for long, though. Two strong hands kneed my calves and thighs, making my toes curl. My breathing is hard, indicating I don’t want to wait much longer, but the look on his face tells me, my husband will lengthen this torture until I’m begging for him.

My daydream of earlier comes to live when we’re both only in our underwear. Draco’s eyes are locked to my chest and his tongue darts out to wet his pink lips. Impatient, I reach behind me to detach the hooks of my red lace brasserie. I take the straps of with a smirk, while he follows my every move. The cups still cover my breasts. When I see his hands grabbing the mattress cover, I wave them in front of his face before dropping the garment on the floor.

The warm grey is exchanged for a darker version. Like a starved man, Draco takes one breast in his mouth and the other in his hand, making me gasp. My hands grip his hair and shoulder, pulling him as close as possible. Every lick, suck, kiss and bite send electricity straight to my core. My body moves of its own. Hips up looking for some friction with his abdomen, chest wringing closer to his mouth and hand and head backwards with open mouth.

“Draco.” His name comes out so soft, I don’t think he heard me. He tucks at my nipple with his teeth, causing me to gasp and my hips to buck. My knickers are getting ruined like this.

The blond wizard lets go and uses the valley of my breasts to reach his new destination, while whispering against my skin: “Yes, love?”

Quickly moving on to the other nipple, he starts all over again. I lose all control by arching my back and planting my feet on the mattress. His free hand holds my hips still, frustrating me. I need something, any part of him, to touch me there.

“Please, Draco,” I beg breathing in. Knowing this is not enough for him, which gets confirmed by his laugh against my skin, I add: “Please, I need you to touch me.”

With a plop he lets go of me and moves back up. I’m so desperate to feel his lips on mine again, I bump my nose against his. He wants to laugh, but is unable to leave. He lowers his hips so I can feel his cock rubbing my clit. I sigh into his mouth. A feeling that’s followed by faster movement of our hips. There’s still fabric in the way that needs to go before his touch will be enough to feel relief. Soon we’re both completely naked, allowing every inch of our skin to touch.

Draco stills his body and hovers above me. A whimper indicates my disappointment by the loss. My skin is on fire and only his body can quench it. I search in his eyes for the reason and only find love. One hand settles on my cheek, while his mouth opens to say something: “Have you thought about my question?”

Upon my questioning look, he places one hand on my stomach. With a smile on my face, I nod. “I have. Let’s wait until Scorp turns one before we try for another.”

Satisfied with my answer the hand traces a pad lower. Eyes locked, one finger finally touches my lower lips. Not being able anymore to hold his gaze, I arch my back and turn my head. My hand tucks at his hair, causing him to groan, I move my hips to guide him where I really need it. Inside me.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Draco says when two fingers slip inside. “How do you expect me to wait, when you’re dripping.”

“Not,” I answer louder than necessary. I pull his fingers out my pussy to move them inside my mouth. Once he feels my tongue licking my own juices from his fingers in my warm mouth, he won’t wait anymore. Draco settles himself between my legs and puts his forehead on mine. Slowly, his thick length finds its way inside my walls, stretching me in all the right ways.

When he’s fully sheathed, we kiss again. It’s slow and filled with love. There’s no better feeling than being connected in the most intimate way to the man who has my heart. One of Draco’s hands strokes my hair when our lips let go.

“This is really coming home,” he whispers.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy.” My hands softly roam over his face and mine is covered in a smile from ear to ear.

“I love you too, Hermione Malfoy.”

After his statement, Draco starts to move. My slick walls adjust every second, drawing him back in or guiding him out. I plant my feet firmly on the mattress to meet his trusts. We make sweet love. The only sound that’s heard are our moans and skin slapping against skin.

When his cock reaches my soft flesh, I scream out in pleasure. We can’t keep going slow now. Draco keeps touching me in all the right ways. His lips find mine again, his hand one of my breasts, his cock brings me to the point I’m not capable of producing any coherent words and his pelvis rubs against my clit.

In no time I feel my climax building. Something that’s meant to be my husbands name leaves my lips over and over again. I’m moving in every way, trying to find that one position that’ll bring me over the edge. Eventually, his words are the trigger.

“Come for me, darling. I’ll be right behind you.”

My face transforms into a silent scream, nails digging in his back. My walls enclose around him, so hard he’s barely able to move. After three more trusts, he shoots his seed towards my womb. I’m so out of breath, all I can focus on, is the feel of the one I love above me. Draco doesn’t sound much better, after every fifth breath, he kisses my neck, getting a stroke through his hair in return.

When he moves out to lay next to me, I feel empty, like a piece of me is suddenly missing. Reaching for my arm, Draco pulls me on top of him. With my head resting on his chest, I can feel his heartbeat slowing down again. We’re both sweating, but I don’t care. My hand wanders over his chest, feeling his muscles contract where I touch him.

“You know,” I break the silence, “Husband mode is as sexy as father mode, but a lot more satisfying.”

Feeling him laugh rather than hearing, I know he gets the reference. “Wait until round two, love. I’ll let the beast loose.”

Settling more comfortable in his arms, I murmur: “I don’t say no to that. I love the beast.”

A few minutes later already Draco acts upon his words. He places his lips on mine in a fierce kiss and moves down, making a stop on both breasts. Lower, his lips seek my thighs, coming close to my clit, but avoiding that sensitive spot at all cost. It makes me nervous and frustrated. I know what his mouth can do and the waiting is too much.

“Draco, please. Put your mouth on my pussy. I need you.”

My husband loves it when I talk like that. Soon all I can see is blond hair, but I feel everything. Every single piece of me is affected by his actions. In no time I'm at the top, waiting for the final push to get me over the edge. And than his warm mouth moves away.

“The beast like to play. What's the fun in giving you what you want so soon?” he answers my pout.

After I pull his smug face to me, I wiggle my body so I can wrap my legs around his waist. His answer is to push himself in in one smooth move. There's no waiting this time or sweet words whispered. He goes hard and fast, causing me to hold on to him with all force I can summon.

Round two might end up being short, but extremely satisfying. I must admit now that husband mode is sexier. Nothing will ever compare to Draco losing his mind in the acts of pleasure above me. Both our orgasms surprise us after only a few minutes. This one so strong, I scream loud enough to be heard in the gardens and jolt up in a semi-sitting position.

 

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I wake up startled and out of breath, not even realising I’m not lying down anymore, until my palms start hurting from the pressure of holding me up. Nothing around me makes sense. The only thing going through my mind right now, is how to breath properly and not in fits and starts.

When I’m finally calm enough, I notice I’m sweating. My arms are glistening, the drops roll down my face and my legs stick to my pyjama and the mattress. Why am I so sweaty? Most of the time I don’t even remember my dreams, let alone have such a strong reaction to it. Luckily no one seems to notice my panic as they are all in a deep sleep.

It takes a while before fragments of my dream come back to mind. Picking up a child and sitting next to Narcissa Malfoy. Her son walking in during dinner. Kissing Malfoy in the hallway. What is happening to me? Why would I ever be near Mrs. Malfoy or kiss Malfoy in their home? This is all so wrong. Though, it felt so right and real. In this one I felt and thought everything. Not like the usual dream where I’m a witness. I didn’t watch myself here, I was me.

Thinking back to that kiss, makes me shiver. The movement causes my thighs to rub against each other and feel my wet knickers. Please, let it be the sweat. I can’t be this aroused by kissing Malfoy in a dream. A kiss in a dream is not supposed to do that.

Then it hits me. The dream didn’t end with that making-me-weak-in-the-knees kiss, it ended in the bedroom. Flashes of Malfoy on top of me, his abs and strong arms, my moaning and begging. In a second the heat is back. I never thought of Malfoy as anything but a bully and now classmate. Sure, he turned out pretty handsome, but my imagination made him look perfect. How am I ever going to look at him again and not think about the amazing sex I somehow ended up creating in my mind?

Next to me Ginny starts to turn around. Her sheets and mattress are being forced in every position before she finally stills. For a moment I feared she’d wake up and find me in this state. But then the noise begins, moaning and soft whispers. It’s clear what she’s dreaming about. Was I doing that too, while dreaming of … being in bed with Malfoy? In that moment I realise what’s happening to us.

The potion.


End file.
